Sunday, August 31, 2014

An
old co-worker from long before the Corps once told me, “Time flies when you’re
having fun … or when you’re working your ass off.” If only I had known then just how often that
statement would be proven true over and over again in my life – especially the
latter point. As I stand here “on the
raggedy edge” of that one thing all servicemen simultaneously (and somewhat
pathologically) long for and dread – the return to civilian life – it occurred
to me that some sort of farewell was in order to the institution of maladjusted
misfits that has claimed four years of my existence. I know, as a short-timer, I may not have much
right to speak on the pros or cons of the Marine Corps compared to the
long-sufferers amongst my comrades, still “living the dream” for many more
years to come, and I don’t really intend to – so, don’t expect any
uniform-burning, or whatever.

It
probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone who had the misfortune of knowing
or (even worse) supervising me in the Corps that I had joined with no intention
of making a career out of it. I came up
with several different answers to the question of “why did you join?” none of
which were really what I meant and, to be perfectly honest, I’m still not even
sure what my reason was to this day. The
why really didn’t matter for me – service, in and of itself, is a noble thing
and, in defiant contradiction to everything our culture of comfort and
cowardice preaches incessantly, I would not tolerate a life without that
experience of service. The Marine Corps
gave me that experience in the way that best suited me, I suppose … a fact that
probably achieves nothing except skyline my propensity for maladjustment even
more gravely to the nice, clean HR people currently reviewing my job
applications at the moment. I sacrificed
a lot for the Corps (yes, even in just four years) – and it was far more than
just the clichés of “family, freedom, comfort, safety” that come to mind for
most people when they think of military service. A lot was taken from the recesses of my
interior in the past four years … some good, some bad, and some that a civilian
just flat-out wouldn’t even get if I told them.

However,
despite whatever a stint in the Corps took from me, I bear it no ill will for those
because I received even more in return.
Memories, experiences, mannerisms, language (can’t beat Marine
vocabulary for appropriately summing up just how bad something can be), skills,
and a frighteningly high tolerance for alcoholic beverages that will remain
with me for the rest of my life are just a few I can list for you. I was given an opportunity to be educated in
what I will argue to my deathbed is perhaps the finest tradition of warrior
servant/leadership still somehow alive in the unhappy world today – despite the
occasional hypocritical betrayals of it that I witnessed from a handful of
“leaders” who knew better. For the rest
of my days in this life, Gen Lejeune’s exhortation for a “father/son”
relationship between leaders and subordinates will haunt me to the end … and
hopefully hold me to that standard that is sadly so often disregarded in our
self-absorbed society.

The
most important gift I received, though, would have to be the bonds of
camaraderie and fraternity I shared with individual Marines – especially those
I was privileged enough to lead. There’s
an old saying in the Corps that, “Marines take care of Marines – because the
Marine Corps won’t.” While we often say
it as a joke, like all Marine-isms, there is an element of profound and tragic
truth lurking beneath the sarcasm and dark humor. Life in the Marine Corps is a living hell at
times and all Marines (even the most die-hard of Kool-Aid drinkers … you know
who you are) will admit this eventually.
What really keeps any of us going usually ends up being the “man next to
us” – the Marine who will sacrifice anything for you, from a duty-free weekend
to the last drop of blood in his body, if you needed it. I knew such Marines and was even put in the
unbelievably intimidating position of leading such Marines. From SSgts whose unique perspectives on life,
the universe, and everything can completely change how you view yourself and
the world around you to the endearing bitterness of the Terminal Lance, whose
loyalty (and resourcefulness) is worth more than the whole world and all the
riches in it when you earn his trust and confidence – these will be the
treasures I will guard with the most jealousy from my time in the Corps. To be completely honest, I never gave much
thought as to why I joined the Corps because, deep down, it wasn’t ever really
about me. It was about them – it was
always about them, as far as I was concerned, even if that meant my career
suffered for it (trust me, it did). I
remember thinking to myself shortly after having been commissioned that if I
could spend four years making any sort of real difference in the lives of the
Marines I may lead, then I’d gladly forego a career. I will never claim that I made a difference
in their lives, but leading them – some of the last few finest kids this
country doesn’t deserve to claim as its own – made an almighty difference in
mine … for which I will forever owe them a debt I cannot hope to repay.

So,
there it is. The good, the bad, and the
ugly of my short-timer’s experience with Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children –
perhaps one of the only institutions I will ever belong to that will be like
another family to me, even if it was a shockingly dysfunctional one at times
(the best ones usually are, though). To
all the Marines who impacted my life – I will miss you … painfully
sometimes. Always remember, once you
were one of mine, you will always be one of mine. Do not ever hesitate to get a hold of me for
anything you may need … even if it’s just for a drink or five. To all those who have more time to owe or
just have a masochistic fetish for punishment, I wish you the best and keep
your heads down … and, for the love of God, don’t let the core principles of
our beloved Corps go the way of tattoos and hazi … er … “individualized
training.” I’ll be here in 1st
CivDiv holding the line against conformity, decency, and the Mothers of
America.